


Borage and Bluebells

by DigitalMetronome



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:08:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29161659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigitalMetronome/pseuds/DigitalMetronome
Summary: After the rejection of his marriage offer, Darcy had planned to continue his life as normal but he is soon haunted by a sickness that appears whenever he thinks of Miss Elizabeth. He discovers the cause of the disease was his love for her and the only cure was for his feelings to be returned. But given her dislike of him, how could he ever be saved from the certainty of death?
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Good day to you fair reader! One night I was lying in bed, suffering from a muscle cramp in my chest and thinking of Pride and Prejudice. The pain reminded me of a very good Hanahaki fan fiction I had read and so I thought: “P&P has unrequited love, it’s a perfect match.” I could not find anyone who had written a similar thing before so I got to writing it.  
> I hope you enjoy it!

“You are the last man in this world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry!”  
The words echoed in Darcy’s head as he wrote his long letter of defence. The fire of anger burned in him, still strong from his argument with Miss Bennet. After pacing about his room, unable to wrestle with the hateful accusations thrown at him, he had finally sat down and took up the quill. A piece at its front had chipped off when he dunked it into the ink, only further aggregating him.  
While he had started of in an aggressive manner, the longer he wrote the more he fell into doubt of his own righteousness. Recalling the moments Miss Jane and his friend had spent together, he could not help but doubt his memories. Was she really as civil to him as to any other? She had certainly not shown such kindness to Darcy, then again he had given her no reason to.  
Even his motive of separating the two to prevent him to be lured in by a family that only sought a wealthy future for their daughter crumbled, since he himself would have accepted this condition for the hand of Elizabeth. And she had rejected him, even at the promise of ten thousand a year.

He sighed heavily after finishing the paragraph about Miss Bennet and Mr Bingley.  
In his attempts to justify his actions he had only realised himself to be wrong. Perhaps Miss Elizabeth had been too hasty in disliking him, but she had good right to do so. 

Yes, he had acted wrongly in that scenario, but it had been with good intentions.  
Miss Bennet and he would likely not see each other again, in fact it would be in their best interest to avoid it. With everything that had been said another meeting could not be good. Darcy should’ve been glad, as Elizabeth had told him, that this unfortunate attraction would end and yet he couldn’t bring himself to rejoice. His heart hung heavy and his throat felt dry. His last opportunity to clear his name was to address Miss Bennet’s account of Mr Wickham. For his sister’s sake he had not presented the truth to the world, they should think him cold and arrogant for all he cared. But he wrote the story down for the only person worthy of knowing it. She would hardly think much better of him, but Darcy feared her attachment to that man. Her connections and income were low, but the risk of her being persuaded by Wickham was to large to leave it be. In addition he held Miss Elizabeth in high opinion and wouldn’t want her to be misinformed.

Thus he wrote down the events of one year prior. While he recalled his sister’s happiness and love, Elizabeth stayed on his mind. During the dance at Netherfield, which Darcy had intended as an opportunity to strengthen their relationship, her thoughts had been with the absent Mr Wickham. Perhaps, no certainly, this letter would make her realise that man’s true nature and she her feelings would be prevented from fully forming. She might possibly be inclined to reconsider her opposition towards Darcy.

Darcy stopped his writing. Did he not pride himself in his reason? Did he still believe now he might regain the favour of a woman, who had so easily rejected him. Knowing the truth behind his actions would not make his arrogant behaviour disappear from her memory, no matter how much he regret it. The sting in his heart spread in his chest, staining his breaths with an uncomfortable pressure, like heavy books were weighing down on him. He coughed to relieve it, then felt something in the back of his throat.  
Immediately he stood up and paced to his sink. Leaning over he cleared his throat, then coughed again and saw something small and blue drop onto the porcelain. Darcy leaned in closer to see what it was, for he could not remember having eaten anything of that colour in the last week. If it was not food, then he should be alarmed, perhaps it was a symptom of an illness. Such a vibrant blue could not be natural.  
Out of curiosity and concern he picked the object up to examine it. It was shaped like a oval that had been slightly trimmed on one side, its surface was soft, its colour was, as already noted a blue like the clouded sky before dusk.

It seemed to be a flower petal, but of a flower that Darcy had not seen before. At least he had not seen it during his stay at Rosings and he walked the grounds often to escape conversation with his aunt and cousins. He also did it because he did not rarely encounter Elizabeth, for she was so fond of the activity as well. She always seemed to be avoiding a meeting between them. He had hoped it to be a coincidence, but now he wasn’t so certain.  
The thought of Elizabeth reminded him of the letter and he returned to the desk, having almost forgotten the flower.  
The strange feeling in his chest did not disappear as easily. When his thoughts were focused on the letter, it fell into the background but when he stepped back from it the urge to cough returned.  
It took all his restraint to keep himself from chocking up when he gave the letter to Miss Bennet the next day. 

—

The carriage ride to London was no more pleasant. Colonel Fitzwilliam insisted on talking about their stay, which would have been welcome to Darcy as he did not have to talk, but his cousin often mentioned Miss Bennet. As all men of Darcy’s acquaintance, who knew her, he had quickly grown fond of her and asked much about Longbourn and Miss Elizabeth’s meetings with Darcy.  
Not only did he not wish to speak about the Bennet sisters, he also was still wounded by his failed proposal. He did give a brief answer to elaborate on the eldest two, to satisfy his cousin’s curiosity enough that he would not ask Mr Bingley. While he now regretted his conclusion in the matter of Miss Jane’s feelings, he thought it for the better to not bring the topic up again. Now having accepted the separation of his ties to Miss Elizabeth, the thought of having to meet her again was both tempting and painful. 

Painful it was also on a physical level, as the strange illness had continued onto the next day. Each time he thought of Miss Elizabeth, which was to say quite often, the pain in chest appeared like a flash and was only relieved through coughing.  
“Are you well, Darcy?” His cousin had inquired after a particularly long fit.  
“Yes, it is but a minor cold. I might have spent too much time outside after all.”  
It must be a cold, he thought. After all how could the thought of Miss Elizabeth have an effect on his health. He believed to have heard of cases where someone’s nerves had influenced their wellbeing and sent them into a fever. However this was nothing like that.  
While the timing was uncanny, it did not appear to be the cause. 

Neither conditions accounted for the flowers. The first time he had been able to convince himself he had merely swallowed the petal on his walks. Yet the flowers followed the coughs and the were not just single petals anymore. After rushing out of sight of Miss Elizabeth, he had leaned against a tree and an entire flower bulb had fallen into his hand. They were rare, but he could always feel them when he swallowed the bad omen away.  
—

At long last they arrived in London. Finally there was something to bring the happiness back into his mind. Georgiana’s smile shown like the sun when she saw her brother and cousin had arrived. Because they had interrupted her in the middle of her practice on the pianoforte, Darcy insisted she play the rest of it for them. His sister obliged, though she seemed a bit embarrassed to play in front of others without fully mastering the piece first.  
“Your brother was right, you play very well indeed.” Fitzwilliam complimented her after the two applauded her playing.  
“I believe Lady De Bourgh would be quite satisfied, what do you think?”  
Darcy, who had been wandering the room awoke from his thoughts at the mention of his aunt. “Pardon?” He cleared his throat and felt something on his tongue. Being more frustrated at the illness than concerned by it he quickly continued the conversation. “Oh, yes. She would be very pleased. She also wishes you to visit and show your progress in person.”  
Georgiana looked down at her feet. Her brother could understand her feelings very well, Lady Cathrine was a strict judge and not very affectionate in her ways.  
“Don’t worry sister, I believe one visit is enough for a while. You know I dislike them as much as you do.”  
“Really?” Asked his cousin. “You seemed to enjoy yourself more than usual this time. I might attribute that to a lady that is not usually present...” Georgiana looked between her cousin, who smiled suggestively, and her brother, who’s expression had darkened.  
“Who might he be talking about, brother? Oh I know, is it Miss Bennet?”  
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded and the both of them turned to Darcy. “Miss Bennet certainly made it more enjoyable. Our conversations were... informative.”  
“We’ll stop teasing you. Who could not be fascinated by such a woman, after all.”  
“Is she really so accomplished as my brother writes? Have you heard her play?”  
Darcy poured himself a cup of tea to escape the conversation. He regretted his lack of restraint when writing about Mr Elizabeth. Eventually he would have to tell his sister that she had no interest in him, if he ever wished to forget about her.  
“Yes I would say she plays the pianoforte very well. And she has also earned my respect for speaking her mind to Lady De Bourgh. I am not sure her Ladyship appreciated it.”

Darcy thought of what his aunt’s reaction would have been had Miss Bennet accepted him. Perhaps he would’ve been disowned on the spot. If he was supposed to be happy to have secured his standing not marrying below himself, he could not do so.  
Memories of that moment resurfaced, and so did the pain. He quickly excused himself, rambling something about unpacking, then hurried up the stairs into his room. He fumbled with the key until he managed to lock the door and stand over the sink once again.  
He knew thing were wrong as he looked upon the small clump of flowers, sticking together from salvia. What had started of as a single petal were now two full blue flowers.  
Another person might have taken this as sign to see a doctor. Oh, but not Darcy.  
Eventually he might have to but being vulnerable to a stranger was to be avoided if possible. 

Still, it was necessary for him to try his best to “practice”. Instead of taking the direct path to the library, he made a detour to the market place. A cleaned flower in his hand he approached a cart filled with a wide variety of coloured petals and leaves. While there were many blues and violets, he did not see the star shaped petals of his flower.  
The shop owner watched him scan the arrangements before she addressed him.  
“Looking for something specific, sir?”  
She had a rough, enthusiastic voice that matched her bright appearance well. While she looked close to Georgiana in age, her dark hair and bright eyes reminded him of Miss Elizabeth. Though he admitted to seeing her in everything. Her accent was not quite the Londoner, making Darcy wonder what might bring a young woman like her to the city to sell flowers. Then he remembered that was none of his business and he owed her an answer.  
“I’m looking for this one,” he stated, forcing his voice trough his mouth. The girl mustered the object in his hand, which he had stretched out for her to see.  
“Hm, looks like a borage. Sorry to say, they’re not in season so you won’t find them here until Summer. Say, sir, is this intended for a lady?”

He looked up from the wares he had sought refuge for his gaze in.  
“Not particularly, why do you ask?”  
“Ah, well that’s good. They symbolise bluntness, not the right message if you intended to woo someone. And any respectable lady should know her flowers, at least in my opinion,” she laughed.  
Currently he did not intend to court someone but he would keep it in mind. Eventually he too would surely move on from Miss Elizabeth. That day would have to come...  
Thinking about her made him feel heavy again and so he moved on to a more pleasant conversation.  
“I’ll take these then, the Thrift.” He pointed to the small pink flowers stuffed in a corner of the cart.  
“Now that’s a better choice, they are quite popular among young women. Maybe not something for a lady, I would think.”  
“They're for my sister. Her favourites.”  
Darcy had many memories of her gathering them and keeping them in small vases scattered throughout their vacation house at the coast. They had often been there when his sister was a child, together with their father.  
The shopkeeper woke him from his memories when she handed him the bundled flowers and wished him and even his sister a good day. The corners of his mouth twitched when he attempted a smile. 

Abandoning his plan to walk to the library, he instead turned homewards to gift the flowers to his sister and rid himself of his own. During the lengthy conversation he had felt the feeling of discomfort increasing.  
It was already time for lunch when Darcy arrived home. Georgiana was delighted as she was whenever she received a gift from her brother. She began reminiscing about the flower fields they had chased each other through in their younger years. Seeing his beloved sister look back so fondly on those times he let Miss Elizabeth escape his mind, even if only for a while.  
The sickness on the other hand was more persistent. He woke up the next morning in a cold sweat and rushed to the bathroom. The good thing was that there were was only one flower, the bad thing, that it had parts of the stem still attached.  
An investigation of this sickness was overdue. He knew the flower’s name, now it was time to research.  
—

The library was almost empty for it was the morning of a workday. Technically Darcy also had work to be finished, but if the people requiring his attention wished for him to continue giving it, they would have to let him ensure his wellbeing.  
It took a while for him to find the section of medical books because of the grand size of the hall. They occupied the entire back row of the second floor, which was unfortunately the last place he checked. The sheer amount of topics people had dedicated their lives to would have amazed him on a normal occasion but now it became a problem. Where to start, where to search and what to search for? The reason he had come to this library in particular was that he had never heard of his disease before and if something wasn’t in one of his libraries, then it had to be rare. 

He tried to narrow down his search, after all there were over 200 books about diseases alone. For hours he systematically pulled out row after row of symptom descriptions, histories and treatments. Yet he never came across a mention of flowers as a symptom. They were only used for treating minor cuts or helped with a cold, but such was common knowledge.  
At last something caught his eye. A small book stuffed backwards in the bottom corner. Its pages had barely any yellow tint but the top was dusty. It seemed not many people were so desperate as to ask that one for answers. Darcy crouched and pulled the book from its hiding place. “Rare foreign diseases” was spelled out in gilded letters on the hard leather cover. “Rare it must be,” Darcy whispered to himself. “But foreign?” He had not been out of the country nor had he met with anyone who had been. The reason he believed it to be a common illness at first was because it came so suddenly, without cause or warning. Seeing as he was out of other books to search, he flipped through the first few pages. There was a long dedication by the author, detailing why he had written the book.  
“Long I travelled the world to find the cause of the sickness plaguing my dearest friend, until I found its source. Before I knew it, it had overcome me too but the cause had been our affection for each other all along...” Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes he skipped forward to the table contents. He had never been the greatest fan of romance tales and he especially disliked them now that his own had failed so dramatically. 

The chapters consumed two entire pages in tiny letters. The author’s dedication to finding a cure impressed Darcy, who thought that for Bingley he might travel the world as well.  
The illness were not listed by any particular category and each had three descriptions. First was a country name which showed the author had started his journey by travelling through Europe towards Arabic lands and further east, the last entries were as far away as China and Japan. The second word seemed to be the name of the sickness in its original language. Darcy pieced together the German from his time as a student to check his theory. It appeared to be correct, however he also knew why this book was so seldom read. The order of description was absolutely useless for an encyclopaedia.  
Only in third place was the English name, as if the author had added them as an afterthought. Most of them were very rough translations but Darcy thought it reasonable that the writer wouldn’t have found a document case in England.  
His eyes scanned the pages. He was unsure what he was searching for and had already resigned to having to scout the entire book for his symptoms when he read the title of the very last chapter.  
“Japan; Hanahaki; Flower cough” His eyes widened, at last he had found it.  
With haste he flipped through the pages, starting from the end to not waste another second.  
There it was, black on white, the answer to his question. Immediately he started reading without taking time to appreciate the artists drawing picturing flowers wilting in a ribcage. 

“The Hanahaki disease shows itself through its characteristic flowers that grow in the patients lungs, which they will cough out over time. The illness is of very long duration, sometimes even over multiple years, but it will only increase in intensity over time. The remaining life span of the patient is determined by the speed of the flowers’ growth, as they eventually lead to suffocation.  
As the cause of this disease I can personally confirm an undying, but unrequited love. Thus it is only fitting that the only cure would be the response with equal feelings. Medical professionals here have told me that attempts at surgery have been made but remained unsuccessful or have lead to the quickened demise of the affected person.”

Darcy stared at the words reading them over and over until they made even less sense than before. “The only cure would be the response with equal feelings. Equal feelings?!”  
He knew very well who the cause of his illness was, though he was not yet ready to admit it. Was the reasons for the flowers’ bloom not the rejection of love? How could that be the cure?  
Desperately he read the entire section of the authors tale, how he himself had struggled with the illness after setting out to cure it in his friend. But they had found each other in the end. The reason for their infection had only been their own foolishness.  
But in Darcy’s case it was very different. Miss Elizabeth despised him and had already made it clear that the end of days would have to arrive for her to accept him. 

With his hands shacking he reread the descriptions. That was his death sentence. Naively he had hoped to move on from his feelings but now all hope was lost. He would die, suffocate on the remains of his pride. That a woman he would likely never see again could be his end, even when he spent years living on while the sickness spread, seemed almost too much to be true. In all its irony at least it would be a fitting end.  
He stuffed the book back into its place, now understanding why he had found it in such a state in the first place. No one could hope to find comfort in a medical book.  
After hastily walking over to an empty aisle he leaned his back against a pillar. He was still under shock causing his breaths to be short. Despite that he managed to somewhat calm himself down until he was able to put on a perfectly straight, if unfriendly face. It mattered little to him now as the goal was simply to return home without alerting a stranger to his condition. If someone saw his distressed expression they might be prompted to ask him for his wellbeing and that would tear out the last nail keeping Darcy’s composure together.  
The walk home felt like it went on forever, even though he was sure he hadn’t taken a detour. The entire way he focused on the pavement to distract his thoughts from spiralling away. Georgiana was practicing her playing when he entered the house. He was grateful for it, as it allowed him to slip into his room unnoticed.

Until dinner he lay on his bed or paced up and down his room. Slowly the truth sank in. He had never thought about death much before. When his father passed he had been busy with organising everything, leaving him just enough time to grief but not to think about his own demise. He was only seven and twenty and his wealth could have protected him from succumbing to any regular illness as he could’ve paid a doctor to watch his every step. That his end would come from feeling was something only a younger Darcy would have imagined. At balls he had often thought that seconds more in company would kill him, even with his friends by his side. Would he really die from loneliness and bitterness? Should he have to pay with his life for his terrible behaviour? Was there no hope of redemption for his demeanour and his mistakes?  
Darcy sighed when he heard a knock on the door. If his lungs were a running hour glass he still had time enough. It had not been four days since the first petal fell.  
He had time... “multiple years” if he was to believe his source. And since he determined the rest of his fate from this single book why should he not draw good conclusions as well. If the authors friend had survived long enough for him to travel the world and back then Darcy should certainly be granted a long live. He laughed quietly and dryly. If it was just enough to take care of his business and provide for his sister’s wellbeing he would be satisfied. A woman like Elizabeth was one in a million. It was unlikely he could ever have fallen for someone else but now with the reminder that his heart was sold to another looming over him, it was entirely impossible. With that a cough arose in his throat and he walked to the sink. Flowers obviously. He might grow sick of them in his opinion soon as well. Suddenly he remembered that someone had knocked for him and he quickly moved downstairs to find them. While he had left the flowers behind in his room they followed him in his mind still. While he listened to his sister happily talk about her day he could not keep the image of her grief away.  
—

Despite all the bad one day brought it was always comforting to know that tomorrow still arrived. For Darcy it was especially relieving as he was finally going to see the Bingleys again. The preparations for a dinner and an evening to host distracted him from the news of the previous day and he found himself almost looking forward to Caroline Bingley’s endless compliments of Georgiana. He had nothing pleasant to report of his visit to Rosings and much more unpleasant things to conceal, so he welcomed any topic of conversation. Regarding his sister there was still one uncomfortable step left to take.

“I must ask that you do not mention Miss Bennet to the Bingleys,” he said to her while they were alone in her room. “Oh, but why not? Certainly you can have nothing to be ashamed about. They would not tease you for being in love!” She looked up from the stack of music sheet she was searching. Darcy gazed past her through the window, it was raining horribly outside. He felt the warmth rise to his cheeks and slowly answered: “that is all in the past now... besides it is unlikely we will see each other again regardless. I do not wish for the others to hear of her presence at Rosings. It would provoke... questions... that is all.”  
“Questions?” Georgiana asked cheekily. “Whatever did Miss Bennet say to you that could make you reject her so quickly?” “It is not me who did the rejecting. If you really must know,” he said quickly: “I told her of my feelings and she informed me of all the ways in which I had wronged her after rejecting my proposal.” He had stood up and walked over to the window but he knew what expression his sister was wearing. “Rejected you? You must be joking brother! How could you have possibly wronged her yet spoke so highly of her to me?” She sounded absolutely baffled by the situation. “Yes, wronged indeed. Let it be enough said that I was most uncivil to her and kept her from the truth. You must see why I do not wish to be reminded further of these unfortunate events. My reasoning has been explained, there is no need for further involvement in each other’s lives.” Again he turned around and leaned against the windowsill. His sister looked at him with a combination of surprise and pity. She had known him long enough to realise some of the feelings that he did not speak out loud but she did not press further. “Yes I understand. They will not hear a word about this from me, Fitzwilliam. But thank you,” she added when he was at the door. “Thank you for confiding in me.” Darcy gave her a smile. “You wouldn’t have let up until I told you anyways.” Georgiana protested but he was already closing the door.  
It was a surprising relief to confess the events at Rosings to someone. It felt like a bit of the weight had been lifted from his chest. The illness did not disappear of course but neither did it increase noticeably. Sometimes throughout the day small petals would come up, the whole bulbs almost always appeared in the morning. Life returned to its usual state, now with the “Hanahaki” disease as another part of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, I hope I didn’t make you wait too long. Happy Valentine’s Day; for some reason I really wanted to publish this chapter today, so naturally I stayed up until 2am to finish it. School has been slowly robbing me of my time and my sanity so I didn’t write as fast as I wanted. I hope you enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for the conclusion of this story which will follow soon.

Some months passed by and Darcy filled the days as he always had, meeting friends or writing letters. His illness never much incapacitated him and he made sure no one else noticed it. Only Georgina or a very observant servant might have taken notice of the muffled coughs that sounded from Darcy’s room each morning, but he took special care to ensure they would not suspect a thing. He even went as far as buying the Borage from the flower cart lady once they were in season. While they sometimes uncomfortably reminded him of the impending doom, they provided an answer for any servants that might wonder why their masters paper bin was increasingly filling with petals. 

Summer has arrived and the temperature started to rise in London. When it did not rain, which was not as rare as many from the country often assumed, the sun burned on the houses. All the ladies moved through the street covered by their bonnets and shaded by parasols. Even Darcy saw the necessity of wearing a lighter coat when he traveled the city. Luckily he never had much reason to, since neither he nor his sister wished to be in society they had little events to attend. The marriage season had begun and while Georgiana was not yet old enough to be a debutante, an opinion which was very much held by her guardians, Darcy had little interest in conversing with the young ladies of London. For reasons that have been mentioned he was not in search of a wife, and even if he had not been promised to death before his thirties, he would have just as little inclination.  
The two Darcys were in agreement that an escape to their country home was adequate. 

-

Two days before their departure a letter from his steward reached Darcy. It describes a problem he was facing with regulating Pemberley in much detailed and motivated the master of the house to return one day earlier than his companions as to not stain their visit with his absence. Riding through the country he decided that he spent too much of his, now rather limited, time in the city. The longer returning there could be delayed the better, he thought while admiring a far stretch of land from atop a hill. In comparison to the town’s air, polluted by smoke and dirt, the country would do wonders for his lungs.  
Though the journey was quite long, he only stopped once, both to take a break for some refreshment and because the exercise seemed to have tumbled the contents of his lungs around quite a bit. 

After being covered by light clouds the sun came out just as he arrived at his home. It cast its rays on the stone walls of the estate and glistened in the many waves of the river. His heart grew with excitement at the thought of walking the grounds again. Gazing over many windows, he smiled and thought of Georgiana’s face when she saw her new room. Alone he could have stayed and watched for hours, but he knew his horse to be tired and work to be waiting and so he wandered towards the stables. He stretched his arms when he left them as his body had become sore from the ride. “It has been far too long since I have properly ridden; London holds no consideration for my health!” The house entrance had just entered his sight when he remembered another upside to the country was the lack of strangers. But lo and behold, four people were admiring the house. Within an instance he recognised the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, but the others, she was showing around, he did not recognise as staff. He stepped further into the light and moved toward them.   
Within rapid succession three thoughts entered his mind.   
“It seems I cannot escape making conversation. Alas my skills should have improved significantly over the past few months!” Then, looking closer at the woman standing slightly apart from her companions: “She is quite the beautiful young lady... she bares a striking resemblance to Miss Elizabeth.”  
...  
“What in the world is Miss Eliza doing here?!”  
Darcy and her eyes met and they now stared at each other completely frozen. Heat rushed to his cheeks and he saw that hers had turned an equally red colour. For a moment they remained locked in place, unable to overcome the shock of their sudden meeting. In the months since their parting at Rosings Darcy had spent long pondering over their argument; so much he might be able to recite it perfectly.   
He had given an explanation for his actions and worked on his “proud” appearance, thus he had nothing to be anxious about, still his hands trembled terribly.   
Holding them, behind his back Darcy strode forward. The tone in Miss Elizabeth‘s voice showed that she was equally surprised and embarrassed at their sudden meeting. Her replies to Darcy’s polite inquiries were rather short and her eyes glanced around, looking everywhere but his face. In turn he kept his gaze fixed on a spot between her brows; his mind was in disarray as it was. He asked something about her families wellbeing and her trip, but she could as well have answered nothing as her answers would not rest among his unruly thoughts. Recounting the conversation, or monologue rather, at a later time, he was unable even to recount his own words. Despite having assured himself there was no reason for embarrassed he could not utter more than a few words at the time, speaking in a pressed and fast manner. Soon enough his ideas for further conversation ran out and so he bowed and moved away as quickly as he came. 

He began to run after leaving the guests sight and finally came to a halt, in the shade behind the house; bend over he held his hand on his chest. Within a few minutes of meeting Miss Elizabeth the flowers seemed to have sprouted as much as in an entire month, yet when he cleared his throat nothing came up. Feeling his heart still race, Darcy took deep breaths until the heat faded from his face. He leaned back against a stone wall and pinched the bridge of his nose; if he had sought relaxation in the country this was a terrible start. No matter how much the disease would worsen, the conversation would certainly remain the most painful minutes of his life. 

Several minutes passed before Mrs. Reynolds emerged from the back door and approached him. “Welcome back, Master. We did not expect you until tomorrow, please excuse our unpreparedness.” With her greeting she made a bow, but then took a closer look at his face. “Are you well, Sir? You must be exhausted from your journey.“  
“I’m perfectly well, thank you,” he answered but his voice sounded higher than usual.  
She knew him too well to miss his agitation and mentioned almost casually: “The visitors are taking a tour of the park. I believe they would be honoured to make your acquaintance.”  
“Would they? Darcy asked and recounted Elizabeth’s ashamed demeanour. “I should go and introduce myself then.” Feeling the redness rise again he quickly turned away and started pacing back to where he had left the visitors. 

Darcy could not see them anywhere but could determine the most likely path of their walk. He could very well imagine that Miss Elizabeth had paced away in a similar manner and understood if she wished to avoid him. But now that he was here, it would be most rude not to address her companions with the same civility he had shown her.  
It took him a while to find them but this time he saw them from a distance and was prepared. The three wandered near the river, easily seen from where Darcy stood. The path lead a slight curve before meeting the main one, giving him the time to consider his approach. Before long he stood before Miss Elizabeth again. She seemed to have collected herself well enough and began talking. 

„These are very delightful grounds... Pemberley is a very charming estate-“ she spoke but cut herself off and with a rather bashful air she turned her head to observe the river. Seeing as it once again fell to Darcy to lead the conversation he asked her to introduce him to her companions. Miss Elizabeth wore a faint but amused smile when she turned to her friends and Darcy would soon discover the reason. Great was his shock when she informed him that the two were her aunt and uncle, the Gardiners; however he managed to limit the expression of that surprise to his eyes and determined to know them without prejudice, he offered to walk back with them. 

Mr. Gardiner had good opinions on many subject and so it was not hard to engage in conversation with him. While they leisurely discussed the state of London, Darcy finally began to understand a little of how his more socially capable friends felt. Forming a new acquaintance with someone who was worth the trouble was pleasant indeed and he very much wished to have a good opinion of him as he was Miss Elizabeth’s relative. While she and her aunt walked before them Darcy’s eye once caught hers when she looked back. They both shot their heads in different directions but Darcy had lost the thread of his conversation. Mr. Gardiner had finished his sentence with finality and Darcy prayed that he was not expecting an answer. 

While he worried thusly, he saw the colourful scales of a fish glistening in the river and an idea formed in his head. “Do you fish, Mr. Gardiner?” He asked him and went as far as looking at him instead of around as he usually did. The other man answered in the affirmative and accepted very gladly when Darcy invited him to fish in a few days. He could not help but congratulate himself on such a clever arrangement; he had managed to make an acquaintance, invite him to further secure that bond and had secondly insured that Miss Elizabeth would hear a good opinion of him for the next few days.   
In his eyes the walk was going rather well; until Mrs. Gardiner voiced her wish to walk with her husband due to being tired. The two younger people were thus obliged to finish the walk side by side.

Miss Elizabeth hastily assured him that they had been told he would not be home. “I am sorry to intrude on you but I thank you for your kind welcome.” Darcy, who was still in the mids of contemplating wether her presence was a curse or a blessing, spoke to reassure both of them. “While your visit was unexpected it is not unwelcome. On the contrary, I am now glad to have found new acquaintances in your relatives.” From the looks she had worn during the introduction of her aunt and uncle, Miss Elizabeth certainly had the same thoughts as him; how ironic it was that the relations which he had referred to as “inferior” would now seem so pleasant to him.  
“And speaking of acquaintances,” he continued to steer his thoughts in a different direction: “the rest of my party will arrive tomorrow and among them are some you know; Mr. Bingley and his sisters.”  
It seemed that no matter what he said he struck a topic connected to their last meeting. The matter of Miss Jane Bennet and Bingley lingered between them and neither dared to mention it. Darcy had already made a decision in that regard and finally found something new to ask her. “There is another among them who wishes to know you.” As his heart beat sped up his voice too rose higher.  
“Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to you during your stay at Lambton?”  
Miss Elizabeth appeared quite surprised at his request but answered with joy. “Yes, the honour would be mine.” She nodded, then the two remained silent until they reached the Gardiners’ carriage. Despite having wanted to introduce the two women for some time, having the certainty worried him. There had been much praise on both sides and while he believed both Georgiana and Elizabeth to be worthy of such compliments his opinion was not unbiased. 

His new found hospitality had somehow prevailed the entirety of the walk and Darcy found himself inviting Miss Elizabeth into the house. However he knew her to be a good walker and she claimed not to be tired at all, thus they waited for the Gardiners outside. Another long period of silence ensued, where Darcy thought of many things to say but each seemed more outlandish than the last. He felt it was best to not mention the argument again and she must have agreed for she at last recounted her journey to Pemberley. Darcy was glad to have a subject he could speak a lot about without investing much emotion. 

Finally the others arrived at the carriage and after politely declining invitations to stay they departed to Lambton. When handing Miss Elizabeth into the carriage Darcy felt as if a storm had raged in his lungs and he quickly returned to the house to collect himself. 

He was not given much time to consider his next actions however as work in the form of his steward arrived at the door and took him along into his office. The matter was not easily settled and only when Darcy sat down on his bed late in the evening he had the opportunity to think about the sudden turn of events. 

During his conversations he had secured multiple occasions he would spent in company. While he looked forward to them, he started contemplating what exactly his aim was. Friendship for friendship’s sake was all well and admirable but he was yet unsure if Miss Elizabeth desired his company at all.   
Long he also pondered if he should ask his sister for her opinion. Since he had recounted the proposal to her they had rarely spoken of Miss Elizabeth; only sometimes when saw something that particularly reminded him of her did he tell Georgiana. As a young woman she certainly must have a better understanding of another woman’s feelings. 

In his heart he knew what relationship he truly desired; in his heart and in his lungs. It was rather selfish, he thought rising from his bed, to still hope to gain her love after all that had transpired. But after seeing her behaviour so changed he could not help but hope.   
Leaning over the bathtub he felt the pain that had gathered the entire day. It spread from his chest over his entire trunk, he sunk to his knees and clawed the marble edge.   
The universe, or god, or fate - whoever was pulling the strings of his life, was truly cruel, forcing him to decide between the people that mattered most to him. He could not cease to love Elizabeth, so much had been clear from the beginning, but now that she acted so genuinely nice, he had surely fallen undyingly in love. And yet that would kill him unless she returned his feelings with equal regard. It was too soon to assume she would come to feel more that polite respect for him.  
He might separate himself from her, given the previous course of the illness it would grant him some time still. And Georgiana, oh dear Georgie, had already lost her parents. She was so young and had almost fallen victim to the greed of an older man once. Darcy turned around and leaned his back against the wall.   
His thoughts tore him apart and yet... 

A memory of Bingley came to his mind, one he had buried out of pride or perhaps guilt. In winter when the friends departed from Netherfield, Bingley usually bright spirits had been more quiet and reserved. After long working from his sister he had eventually seemingly returned to his normal self and Darcy had almost chosen to ignore the grief that still lingered under the facade of his friend.  
Was that the fate that awaited him? If he asked Miss Elizabeth for her hand again he would receive the same answer, even if more politely worded. And what would it do if she married him without love. He could not tell her about the disease, that was certain. Knowing her, she would feel herself responsible for his fate or even worse -and unlikely-try to fall for him to save his life. He would not let her waste her life like that. 

After careful consideration he felt there was only one path he desired to take.   
During her visits to Darbyshire he would offer her his friendship and bring her into his close circle. Perhaps he might even assist her in bringing her sister and his friend together. Then he might enjoy the rest of his time in her company.  
He took a deep breath and slowly returned to his bed. His decision had been made;  
he would rather live a short life as her friend than a long one being a stranger.

-

After breakfast the following morning Darcy began aimlessly wandering the house. He picked up a book but could not focus on it as he gazed out of the window every few seconds. Just as he sat down again he heard the rattling of a carriage from the open window. He jumped up and dashed to look outside; it was his sister’s carriage, followed by that of the Bingleys. Quickly he paced into the hall, rushed down the stairs and threw open the door. On the steps before the entrance he came to a halt, grounding himself to properly receive the guest. Georgiana was the first to exit the carriage and moved with equal speed towards her brother. The two embraced tightly; to a stranger it might have appeared the two had been separated for much longer than only days.   
Still, Darcy had missed her dearly and was eager to conspire with her in the matter of Miss Elizabeth.   
Over his sister’s shoulder he saw that, after Georgiana’s governess left the carriage, Bingley was now exiting his. With a grin on his face he strode forward and -once Darcy and his sister had separated- the two men embraced as well. When Bingley sisters and Mr. Hurst approached he greeted them with a polite inquiries and received them in return. 

Having entered the house and finished all casual conversation, Darcy could no longer keep the surprise to himself. While the house servants carried their luggage past the group, Darcy revealed his arrangement to his sister: “Georgie, I must tell you, I have already promised our presence in Lambton this morning.” At this she appeared quite shocked and Mr. and Miss Bingley turned around to listen as well. “It just so happens that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is there at the moment and she would be glad to make your acquaintance.” Georgiana’s surprise turned to joy and she grasped her brother’s hand. “She truly is here? What a wonderful coincidence. Oh, we must go at once then, if we are to meet her in the morning. How rude of me to keep her waiting.” Indeed the grandfather clock in the hall showed it was nearly noon. Bingley expressed his wishes to see her as well, his sister however convinced him that they should go to their rooms first. The Darcy siblings went ahead on their own and the older spent the carriage ride telling an abridged version of his encounter with Miss Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle. Georgiana listened eagerly; out of interest and because she was rather nervous.   
Her fear was unnecessary however, as the two young women got along splendidly. Though they were rather shy at first, Miss Elizabeth soon spoke much and while she did not speak much, Darcy knew his sister to be pleased with her. Not long after, Bingley arrived and begun a more lively conversation with Miss Elizabeth and Georgiana returned to the safety next to her brother. As Darcy had thought, Bingley was still very much interested in the older Bennet sister and he observed some satisfaction at this in Elizabeth. This certainly played well into his plan of reuniting the two, a plan which he continued to refine while observing his friends talk. During the remainder of their stay he would have to find an opening where he might have the uncomfortable conversation they were so proficiently ignoring. While he had already explained his reasons for separating Bingley and Miss Jane, he felt an apology was in order and he also wished to conspire with Elizabeth. Since she was very eager to present herself well before the others, Darcy had little inclination to talk, he much happily observed his friends in their conversation. Only at the end of their visit he turned the word to the Gardiners, once again extending the invitation to fish and nudged his sister to join him in inviting them for dinner. The evening before their departure the Gardiners and Miss Elizabeth would visit Pemberley for the last time, giving Darcy enough time to at least get the ball rolling. 

Only when they returned to their own estate could Darcy feel the aftertaste of conversation with Miss Elizabeth.  
“I have a surprise for you, wait here for a moment,” he told his sister then quickly left into another hall. In truth the room was fully prepared already and Darcy used the excuse to disappear trough the back door. In Pemberley you would run into a servant at any corner and he was still determined to conceal the illness by all means necessary. After ensuring that no one had seen him exit the house he hid behind some trees not far off. The thick hedges marking the edge of the woods conveniently hid Darcy while he coughed a pile of flowers onto the undergrowth. They were even more than the night before, though Darcy could not explain why. He had been more sure of Eliza’s good opinion this morning than ever before, why should he feel so rejected? Perhaps he felt ignored by her but that was a fault of his own since he had barely sought conversation with her. Jealousy was as little to blame as both Bingley and Elizabeth were far more concerned with her sister’s happiness.   
In the end Darcy could only blame the increase shed of flowers on his growing affection for her. Though he was dissatisfied with this conclusion , he choose to ignore it until he found more answers and he hastily returned to the house, seeking his only continuous source of joy, the happiness of his sister. 

-

Mr. Gardiner had many excellent traits but he continued to impress Darcy with his skill with the fishing rod. He, Bingley and Darcy were all gathered at a flat part of with river bank together with two other men that Darcy knew well from London. For multiple hours they sat together commenting on each other’s abilities and making jokes. Only when Mr. Gardiner mentioned his wife and niece had planned to visit Georgiana, Darcy felt the wish to remove himself from this comfortable environment and join the unfamiliar territory. 

Upon his arrival he saw that Georgiana and Miss Elizabeth were hardly speaking as Mrs. Gardiner lead the conversation so he did his best to encourage them to speak more to each other. The two were seated quite far from each other and Miss Bingley was just as eager to preserve this. Darcy had long know the her and Elizabeth to dislike each other but paid it little attention until the former directly addressed the latter. She struck the one topic that had not been even remotely mentioned since Rosings; the militia and more precisely Wickham. She did not mention him by name but all three that knew of his previous actions were startled by this. Darcy quickly glanced at his sister, who seemed rather confused. He now regretted to have vented about Miss Elizabeth’s partiality to her before his visit to Rosings. His heart dropped as he looked over to a speechless Elizabeth. But his panic was quickly calmed when she answered with perfect indifference. “To some it may be a loss. But I would think we will all find enjoyment as we have before.” At this Darcy relaxed and his heart beat higher than it had before. That Miss Elizabeth felt thusly toward Wickham, answered without a hint of embarrassment, must be a consequence of the letter, he thought, and rejoiced in her once again proving her intellect and judgement. None of the younger women could be persuaded to speak much after this short exchange and so Darcy escorted Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Eliza back to their carriage. 

Lying in bed that night, clutching his sore throat he truly began to grasp how urgent his task was. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, “tomorrow I will visit her. And then no one can come between our exchange. If I could be alone with her I might determine the course of my fate once and for all.”  
-

Darcy had considered bringing flowers, he had thought of it very much, but he felt it was not yet time. Their relationship was just starting to become more friendly and he did not intend to rush things as during his previous attempt. In addition he knew little of flowers and wanted Georgiana’s opinion when he picked them out. He smiled when he imagined the two of them academically discuss the art of flowers.

A servant opened the door and, after shortly being taken aback by Darcy’s visit, informed him that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were not present. “That is not an issue,” Darcy assured him: “though I would have liked to see them as well, I am here for Miss —Bennet.” He had to stop himself from using her given name, so often he had only thought of her as Elizabeth. In Merington it would not have aroused suspicion as there were so many Miss Bennets there was reason to specify, but in Derbyshire there was only one. And they were, as he reminded himself often, not close enough. Darcy only ever addressed his family so personally. He blushed slightly at the thought and was glad that the servant had already turned and begun leading him through a corridor . 

Just as Darcy rose his hand to knock the door was flung open. Without warning he was face to face with Miss Elizabeth who, pale and agitated, only looked at him in distress. Her eyes shot to his face and she took a step forward. “I am so sorry but I must find my uncle immediately!” His heart ached at seeing her so and without restraint he quickly asked: “Goodness, what is the matter? Please I will not stop you but you are not well. Let me or,” an impulse flashed in his mind that he could not leave her now- “let the servant go!”   
Elizabeth hesitated but she agreed and hastily ordered the confused servant to go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. She then sat down on a chair, her hands still shaking though her fingers were interlaced. Darcy now felt almost equally distressed and quickly offered any relief he could. She assured him that nothing was wrong with her but before she could state more than the reason for her sorrow were news from home she broke into tears. 

A few times she began but always broke of when more tears filled her eyes and throat. Darcy could do nothing but watch in silence; he did give his handkerchief so that she would not spoil her sleeve when wiping her eyes. More than ever before he wished to have the ability to do something, anything. Were he more eloquent in giving consolation he would not be frozen in place again unable to do anything but look, even as it broke his heart. Whatever the news were, if they could break the steady constitution of Miss Elizabeth then they would have to be grave indeed. “From Longbourn...” his mind repeated over and over again. Many terrible scenarios arose but he pushed them all away and waited for her to tell him the truth. It were horrible news indeed but nothing he could have ever imagined. The younger Bennet sister had eloped with Wickham of all people, of he could be referred to as a “person”. It seemed almost cursed that they should have spoken of him the day before -so concerned with Elizabeth’s regard for him- that now her sister had ran away with him.   
Upon his questions she also revealed the details of their disappearance and that her uncle should join their father in his search. Each of her words engraved themselves into Darcy’s mind and he swore to remember them well.

The worst part was that Elizabeth somehow blamed herself for this tragedy, when it was Darcy who had had the power and opportunity to reveal the true character of that wretch to them but did not. 

Darcy paced through the small room, deeply buried in frantic plans and worries. For a moment he felt disappointment that he would loose their company sooner than planned but he could not let himself be taken by selfish wishes. Instead he dwelt on the one lead he had; he was already in the midst of planning the search when Elizabeth’s quiet sob tore him back to the present. “You must have long been wishing for my absence,” he apologized. “I must assume then, that this will prevent my sister from seeing you today.”   
“Yes, I’m sorry but please apologize on our behalf. If you can, conceal the circumstances as long as possible.” He assured her he would and after taking a final look at her, taking in every detail about her appearance for what might be the last time in his life, he quit the room and hurried down the stairs. In the distance he saw the Gardiners returning to their niece which gave him the comfort of having left her in better hands. 

Just for a moment he stood still, uncertain of his next move until a pain stabbed through his body, like a bullet had entered right in his sternum. The pain was so unbearably sickening that his stomach turned and he tasted bits of his breakfast with the flower petals. He ran like he had never ran in his life, his lungs wheezing with every gasp until he reached the cover of the forest next to the village. Then finally he came to a halt, leaning against a tree with his hands.  
His arms trembling he coughed and coughed until his throat hurt and tears stung in his eyes. He had never complained about the fate that awaited him but now, having been moments away from turning his life in a positive direction, his plans had been crossed. By Wickham, the rival he had already gotten rid off. Now he might never know if Elizabeth could have loved him, not even a quiet existence as her friend they could grant him.

A final cough arose in his chest and he spat out the flowers as if along with all his pain and anger. Exhausted he looked down at what had so long bloomed inside of him. The delicate flowers were no more, it was now a pile of half dried petals, leaves and stems, covered in salvia and —he tasted the iron before he saw it, even among the sweet scent of flowers— blood. With shook and grief he gazed upon all that remained.  
This was not a sign that he still had years to live. It was an omen, a message saying: “your time will be up soon, take care of your business before it is too late”. His pain flamed into determination and he stood up to wipe his mouth. He would honour that warning and right the wrongs he’d committed. His plan was ready when he reached his estate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the second chapter. This one is quite the rollercoaster of emotions and I hope I conveyed it well. Thank you also for all the Kudos and the comments on the first chapter, it means a lot to me that my hard work pays off.   
> Until the next one!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this first chapter. I finished it surprisingly quickly in only three weeks, so hopefully I can write the second one soon.  
> “Was there no hope of redemption ”I wanted to make a reference to Dickens “A Christmas Carol” here, something along the lines of “if this illness was a sign he should chance for the better, his three ghost so to speak, should it not give him the prospect of escaping a terrible fate?”.  
> Sadly I discovered that that book was published almost twenty years after Pride & Prejudice, so it couldn’t happen without making Darcy a time traveller. Shame...  
> Unless...?


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